Sexual Hunger (29 page)

And what had Rubio learned when he’d fingered Dora’s ring? Maria sensed he’d offered the lady his consolations partly so he could
touch
her…to ascertain what she wasn’t telling outright. Then—just as he’d predicted—a triumphant knock at the door made them all look up.

Yosef Polinsky stood there, grinning proudly. Sprung padlocks dangled from the two lengths of chain with which Jason had bound him.

Jason rose so suddenly his chair hit the wall. “What the hell are
you
doing here?”

“Proving my point—and my power,” the medium replied slyly. “As an admirer of the imminent Harry Houdini, I’ve perfected my abilities to escape any form of bondage. Thank you for indulging me, Lord Darington.”

“Yosef! How wonderful you are! And how amazing!” Dora beamed, and then opened her arms to welcome him.

Rubio resumed his seat. Polinsky entered with a grand air of accomplishment, to wrap Dora in his arms and noisily kiss her cheek. “You have explained things to your children, I gather? They’ll require time to understand the implications of all you’ve shared with them.”

The magician turned to them then, his handsome face imperiously composed. “Like it or not, your mother and I are in love,” he announced. “You need to see her in a different light now, for you are adults and she has desires you fully understand—if you will put yourselves in her place. I assure you I will take good care of her. And I have no intention of intruding upon
your
lives, so long as you allow Lady Darington a chance to live hers.”

Maria didn’t dare breathe. Beside her, Rubio fought a foxlike grin. Seconds ticked by.

The twins stood up simultaneously. “I’ve seen enough for one day,” Jason muttered.

“Hear, hear,” his brother replied. “A lot to chew on, indeed.”

“W
elcome home, Lord Darington! It’s
so
good to see you, sir!” Quentin McCallum pumped Jason’s hand as they came off the gangplank at the London pier. “And you, too, Miss Palladino! You must be feeling feisty and fine, now that you’ve found your man and brought him around again!”

Feisty and fine.
After these past two days of strained conversations and Jemma’s outbursts aboard the
Fortune’s Opportunity
, Maria was ready to feel feisty and fine! Matter of fact, it sounded like something Miss Crimson would say! She
yearned
for a copy of the
Inquirer
, to see how the columnist had fared—what she’d posted—these past several days.

As the stevedores hauled their trunks toward the waiting carriage, a movement caught her eye. “Maria! Dora!” a halting voice cried. “Jude—and Jason! Jason, Lord Darington, home at last!”

“Mrs. Golding, how nice to see you!” Maria rushed forward to embrace the little woman, who might faint from her excitement. “What brings you here? How did you know we’d be—”

“Why, Miss Crimson’s column yesterday spilled over with the good news! We’ve all been
so
concerned about you Daringtons!” she nattered. “I’ve had Vera prepare you a light supper, knowing how tired you’d be!”

“Well, isn’t that the sweetest idea?” Maria turned to see if the others had heard the old dear’s invitation: Meriweather looked smaller and more fragile, yet her eyes sparkled in her rouged, withered face…and she would show Maria that column, to catch her up on the latest news! “Did you hear that, Dora? Mrs. Golding has prepared supper for us!”

Lady Darington frowned as she took the last steps down the gangplank on the arm of her firstborn. “After this exhausting trip, I couldn’t think of going anywhere but—”

“What a lovely thing for you to do!” Jason crouched slightly to clasp the dowager’s hands. “The food on our voyage left much to be desired, and you always served the lightest, freshest scones, and—well, I’ll be there! Won’t the rest of you join us?”

“You, too, Mr. Palladino!” Meriweather said with a grin. “I can’t wait to hear your stories, about how you located Jason and saved the day!”

Jemma sighed loudly and rolled her eyes. Jude glanced around them, and then took his mother’s arm. “I’ll be there, as well, Mrs. Golding. What a thoughtful gesture.”

“I wouldn’t miss it!” Maria chimed in.

Their old friend nodded excitedly—and then she sobered: Yosef Polinsky was coming down the gangplank, chatting with the captain and O’Keefe. He stopped to give her a courtly bow. “You’re a sight for sore eyes, Meriweather. How nice to see you.”

“And you, sir.” Her lips tightened into a thin, colorless line before she added, “My invitation to supper includes you, as well, Mr. Polinsky.”

“You are too kind,” he replied.

Well, wasn’t
this
interesting? Maria settled into a carriage with Rubio and the twins, leaving Jemma to ride with her mother, the butler, and the magician. “Can you believe it?” she rasped. “Not that long ago—before she gave him the boot—Meriweather and Polinsky were as giddy as young lovers.”

“So sickeningly sweet on each other, it turned my stomach,” Jude recalled.

“And she said Miss Crimson announced your return yesterday, Jason. All of London is celebrating—just as I am!” Maria hoped her exuberance covered her concern: had Quentin McCallum been writing the column in her place? Or had the editor kept the gossip flowing so his paper would sell? She couldn’t wait to get her hands on Meriweather’s copy of the
Inquirer
.

“Damn! You mean it’s all over the papers that I’ve come home? I’d hoped to settle Father’s legal matters before…” Jason frowned out the carriage window. “How the hell did London’s biggest tattletale know when I’d arrive? The only word I sent was addressed to Quentin.”

“And how could he keep such good news to himself? Quite possibly, the telegrapher who deciphered your message spread the word, as well,” Rubio replied without missing a beat. He leaned forward, gesturing toward Maria. “Your bride was beside herself, you know. We were
all
worried sick about you, milord.”

“That’s no reason to post it in that damn scandal sheet—”

“But Miss Crimson helped us find you!” Jude chimed in. “Father and I searched the pier, at the recommendation of your chums from the bachelor party, but Scotland Yard was baffled. Had Miss Crimson not begged her readers for information, when she wrote her column on the wedding—”

“Jesus! Don’t tell me the entire city believes I stood up my bride!” Jason’s face became the same shade of red as the leather upholstery. “If I find out who pens this vicious drivel—”

“Please, Lord Darington, let’s show a bit of sympathy for your bride! With hundreds of guests in the church, awaiting your arrival, your disappearance was by no means a secret.” Rubio fixed his gaze on Jason, while Maria sat very still. This discussion—her fiancé’s heated opinions—didn’t bode well for Miss Crimson’s continued career. She had to corner Quentin before Jason collared him….

“And let’s not forget, dear brother,” Jude said quietly, “that while Johnny Conn lured ships into the shoals with his pirate shenanigans,
we
were dealing with your abduction
and
Father’s passing. Feeling quite flummoxed in the wake of our double tragedy.”

Jason gazed at his twin for several seconds. He exhaled loudly and took Maria’s hand. “Please excuse my outburst, love,” he murmured. “All these revelations about Father not being my father—among other things I’ve had to accept these past few days—have skewed my perspective. I didn’t mean to offend or upset you, dear Maria.”

“It’s all right,” she murmured. Her heart still fluttered like a frightened bird’s. “We’ve all been on edge. No one could’ve anticipated your mother’s confessions, not to mention Polinsky’s declaration of love, or your father’s…condition. I had no idea he was ill. He and I danced and had a pleasant chat just moments before he collapsed.”

“To the unassuming eye, Phillip appeared normal,” Rubio mused as he nodded in agreement. “Not unusual for a man’s sudden death to bring unexpected secrets to light.”

They rode quietly the rest of the way to Mrs. Golding’s, lost in their private thoughts. Thank God Rubio had diverted the conversation, and Jude had joined in without knowing he’d covered her little secret! Maria reminded herself what a joy it was to be seated beside the love of her life again, holding his hand…even though he detested what she did for an income. She had to believe Miss Crimson could take her literary leave without Jason being the wiser. What a delicious secret it would be, to remain a mystery to the entire population of London, after her years of enjoying such public anonymity!

As the carriage pulled up in front of the brownstone, Rubio’s surreptitious wink put her in a better mood to enjoy Meriweather’s surprise supper. Once they entered her home, however, the
real
surprise jumped out! From behind the settees and the grand piano, nearly a dozen friends sprang up, crying, “Welcome home, Lord Darington!” Their chorus turned into chaos as everyone greeted the guest of honor, the lost son come home again. As Meriweather stood in the doorway of her music room, she giggled like a schoolgirl.

“You sly cat!” Maria spoke beneath the cacophony. “This is quite a party you put together for Jason’s arrival. Did you say you read of it in Miss Crimson’s column?”

“Why yes, dear! And I’ve saved all those copies of the
Inquirer
, knowing you wouldn’t want to miss a single thing that happened in your absence!” She pointed to a stack of newspapers on the hall credenza. “I’m so happy you and Jason convinced the others to come! What would I have done with all this food?”

Maria’s fingers itched to open those issues containing her column. She now had the perfect excuse to read them when she returned to the town house—or even during the carriage ride home! So for now, she should pay attention to who had attended this gathering, perhaps as fodder for her final column. She accepted congratulations from Martha MacPherson and Esther Grumbaugh before Colette and Camille Bentley caught her up in a double hug. Her journalistic eye wandered around the noisy rooms: she greeted Lord and Lady Galsworthy and Lord Fenwick…an interesting twist, because Meriweather didn’t know of their covert ties to Dora Darington and her children.

Did she?

As Sarah Remington made her way through the crowd toward Jude, Maria was struck by how much she knew about some of these guests—and what she might
not
know. After all, who would have guessed Phillip might have succumbed to the pox, had a heart attack not claimed him first? Who knew Dora had married him to veil her questionable reputation?

And what of Rubio’s allusions to things not being what they seemed? As Maria watched Yosef Polinsky nod and grasp hands, gazing into the ladies’ eyes as though he saw all the way through to their souls, Dora made her separate rounds. How did she feel about Polinsky so affectionately
handling
these women, now that he’d proclaimed his love for
her?
Would the couple announce their intentions today, while so many of their friends were here? Many ladies whispered behind their hands, about the widow Darington dressed in silk the color of buttery sunshine: reason enough for gossip among these pillars of propriety. Society kept its secrets—or divulged them—in ways even Miss Crimson had no way of foretelling.

So Maria relaxed. She smiled at this gathering of family and friends who, beneath their aristocratic manners and heirloom jewelry, might conceal a veritable
hotbed
of scandals a common columnist like herself could only speculate about. Perhaps people of the Daringtons’ ilk could better
afford
secret lives…one more facet of privileged living to which she must adjust. Her activities as London’s most quoted, most mysterious gossipmonger probably
paled
compared to what these guests had done.

“Please, everyone!” Meriweather spoke above the clamor. “Fill your plates at the buffet! Vera has prepared a wonderful supper!”

Maria noticed Jemma then, wringing her pink gloves as she stood in a nook behind Meriweather’s piano. Poor girl. With her mother’s lover present, as well as Jude’s new admirer—not to mention the two “old goats” who’d fathered the three of them—she resembled a mouse cowering in a cabinet. Jason still regaled his well-wishers with his adventures, so everyone she usually talked with was occupied. Jemma knew better than to pitch a pity fit in someone else’s home, so she was stuck. Too bad Quentin had returned to the town house.

Maria picked up a plate and smiled at the bewildered blonde. “May I join you, Jemma? While this surprise party was a splendid idea, I’m tired and I really don’t wish to make polite conversation with anyone.”

Jemma’s blue eyes widened. Was that amazement on her face, or sheer gratitude? “Yes, I’d like that,” she murmured. “Knowing what I now know, I can’t make
any
kind of conversation with…certain parties.”

“I can’t imagine how awkward it must feel, to cogitate about your father, by blood, only to be confronted with him the moment you got here. Life is sometimes more a thicket of thorns than a rose garden, isn’t it?”

Her tremulous smile touched Maria. They chose food from chafing dishes filled with roasted squab and sliced beef in gravy, seasoned root vegetables, and a large compote of stewed fruits that glistened like wet jewels. The sweets on the far end of the sideboard tempted her, but there wasn’t enough room on her plate—and still Vera carried out steaming pans of food. What a relief that most of the older guests sat at the long dining room table while the twins, Sarah, and Rubio chose chairs in the adjacent parlor where she and Jemma sat.

“Quite a gathering,” Rubio remarked. “Much nicer than returning to my apartment alone.”

As though you would be
, Maria mused. Alice, the blond seamstress across the hall, had probably missed him.

“And so much nicer to join you ladies in here than to act
polite
in Polinsky’s presence. A cross between a peacock and a bantam rooster, is he not?” When Rubio imitated the way the other medium raked his hair back from his temples, Jemma laughed out loud.

But then the mystical man sat straighter…tuned in to voices they couldn’t hear. “He’s going to be sorry he took the bait,” Rubio murmured, as though no one sat around him. “It might well be his undoing.”

Maria smiled at Jemma and shrugged.

When they returned to the buffet to consider dessert, however, Yosef Polinsky was working his way around the long table. He flirted shamelessly with the ladies, entertained the guests with his account of searching for Jason while he performed tricks with the table service.

“Which hand holds your salt cellar, Mrs. Grumbaugh?” he queried playfully. “I bet you know! You’ve watched very closely.”

The chubby woman tapped his left hand. When he opened it, a loud gasp flew around the table: a delicate bracelet of emeralds and sapphires dangled between his fingers.

“My stars, Mr. Polinsky!” Esther protested. “How did you
do
that? I had no idea—”

“The hand is faster than the eye,” the magician quipped. “But I’ll repeat the trick, while you observe again. I am passing your salt cellar between my fists—”

“Don’t fall for that old shell game, Esther!” Across the table, Martha MacPherson scowled and stood up. “And why are
you
acting so amazed? Yosef gave
me
that bracelet weeks ago, when—”

“I beg your pardon, but you’re dead wrong!” Esther Grumbaugh smacked the table and then stood up so suddenly she nearly bumped heads with Polinsky. “My first husband, Leopold, gave me this pretty little piece after the birth of our daughter, Maggie!” To emphasize her point, she fastened the bracelet around her wrist and then shook it at the matron across the table.

Maria took Jemma by the shoulder to stop the girl from venturing across the room toward the desserts. As those around the table glanced quizzically at one another, they straightened, spoiling for a catfight.